


Post-Punk Revival

by eviscerates



Category: inFAMOUS (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Gen, I don't ship these two romantically but feel free to read this with ship goggles on, I welcome any and all kind of shippers around here, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Game, Referenced death(s) are spoiler-y so don't read if you haven't finished the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-23
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-02-05 20:50:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1831822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eviscerates/pseuds/eviscerates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fetch, a closet music fanatic, notices Delsin drumming on his legs one day and asks him about music and his past and in turn opens up about her own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Post-Punk Revival

**Author's Note:**

> I made a "Fetch's Ipod" (which you can find on my 8tracks [URL is /allenwalker]) fanmix which led to my headcanon that she loved music. I thought of how Delsin drummed on his legs when idle, which made me wonder if he played the drums and the two ideas kind of collided and made this.

Delsin and Fetch were sitting on the edge of a building in Belltown eating fish tacos and drinking beer Delsin bought from a boedga that gave him an extreme "celebrity" discount. Delsin ate faster than any normal human being should, having polished off four tacos in the span it took Fetch to eat two. She was watching him out of the corner of her eye as she licked hot sauce off her fingers, watching him bob his head and drum his palms on his thighs to a song playing in his head.

After a while of spying on him she spoke up. "Yo, D, you play the drums?"

He jumped a little like she startled him, and she grinned a wicked smile as he flicked her off, leaning back on his hands. He shrugged, his legs swinging idly off the edge of the apartment roof they were perched on.

"Sort of. I was in a band in high school. We sucked." He shook his head, reaching over to steal Fetch's beer and take a drink of it, earning him a smack upside the head.

"You were in a _band_? What did you sound like?" She was tickled at the thought of a high-school Delsin playing in a garage somewhere, so different from her own teenage experience.

He laughed, drinking from his own beer this time. "We sounded like shit. We thought we were cool, though. It was really all because of me. I was the cool one."

Fetch rolled her eyes, finishing her third taco. "Yeah, you really are the pinnacle of cool, dude. But seriously, c'mon. I wanna know. Punk, rock, grunge, what?"

Delsin eyed her for a moment like he thought she was making a joke and about to call him a rude name or make fun of him. When she didn't, he set down his beer and shot her a quick grin.

"Punk, or what passed for it. It was me and two guys and a girl set up in my garage singing about sticking it to the man and how much capitalism sucked. We said 'fuck' a lot. God, the noise drove Reggie up the fucking wall. I think he tried to pull the 'quiet-down-I'm-a-cop-I-can-arrest-you' card at least a hundred times."

He got quiet for a minute, the way he did whenever he mentioned Reggie. Fetch got it - It was the same way she got when she'd turn to tell Brent something funny, remind herself to tell him something when she saw him again, only to realize he wasn't there to tell anything to. She figured the best thing to do was wait for the moment to pass, like she always did. She wasn't good with emotional shit anyway.

"Did he ever? Arrest you guys, I mean." She crossed her legs on the building ledge, biting into her fourth taco.

He smiled a little then, pulling a cigarette out of the pack in his pocket and lighting it with a snap of his fingers, sparks and ash flying off his hand as he took a drag. "Nah, never did. Betty did hit me over the head with a wooden spoon when I sent one of my sticks flying through the garage window, though. I mowed lawns for a month to pay for that window."

Fetch laughed, snorting with her mouth full of taco. Delsin had told her about Betty, she'd sounded like a badass bitch that Fetch would like to meet.

"Hell yeah, Betty." She reached over and stole the cigarette from him, and he looked like he was going to smack her in revenge before he thought better of it and went back to swinging his legs against the brick. "So why'd ya quit? Band, drums, whatever."

Delsin drank the last of his beer, swishing it around his mouth. "Well, like I said, we sucked. I think Elan got a girlfriend and quit hanging out with us. Howie got busted with some pot and his mom grounded him for the rest of his natural days, or something like that. And it's hard to have a band with just a bassist and drummer, so Nadine just stopped showing up to band practice not long into junior year." He tossed his bottle from hand to hand, spinning it around on the back of his fingers, a trick Fetch couldn't figure out how he did. "Besides, I was way too cool to hang around with a bunch of band playing geeks by then."

Fetch flung a piece of fish at him, shaking her head. "Well, that sucks. I always wanted to be in a band, but I don't play nothing. I'm real good at karaoke though - Alone in my bedroom mirror. And stop calling yourself cool. You're the most un-cool. Eugene is cooler than you," she stated with authority, popping the last bit of taco into her mouth.

Delsin gasped dramatically, holding a hand to his chest like she'd seen actresses do in old movies before pausing and shrugging. "You know, Eugene might very well be cooler than me. He can turn into a sixty-foot tall angel that spits out smaller angels and laser beams."

Fetch rolled her eyes, balling up the foil from her tacos and shoving it into the pocket of her jacket. She propped a leg up on the ledge, looking over at Delsin as she took a drag on the now-almost-burnt-out forgotten cigarette. "You should play again. Y'know, just for somethin' to do."

Delsin looked at her as if she'd suggested he take off his clothes and do the macarena on top of a D.U.P billboard. "Why, Miss Walker, I had no idea you had such intense passions of the musical persuasion."

She scowled and looked like she was going to blast him with neon for a minute before she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I like music, yeah? Sue me. They didn't let us do shit in Curdun Cay but they let me - I don't know about anyone else - Listen to whatever music I wanted. It was kinda all I had in there." Her voice went quiet on the last sentence and she fidgeted with her fingers, a gesture Delsin characterized as very not-Fetch. She almost never talked about her time in Curdun Cay, even less than Eugene - Which was saying something.

Delsin looked at her with a curious expression on his face, almost if she were a textbook he was studying. He looked away just as she started getting mad, and she sighed and dropped her leg down, taking a final drag on the cigarette before flicking the butt into the air where Delsin vaporized it with a smoke shot.

"I had a really well-stocked iPod in there. Fucking thing got lost in the bus crash. Fuckin' Hank." She sighed again, scrunching up her nose in irritation as she remembered how terrible she'd felt when she got to safety. The stupid iPod was just about her only worldly possession she really cared about, and she'd put a lot of effort into putting all the songs in order and blasting angry rock songs when the training sessions got too much to handle. She'd almost cried, then got blindingly angry at her own weakness and streaked off to kill something. Not her finest hour.

If he noticed her introspective expression, Delsin didn't say anything about it. "What kind of music? I find it hard to guess what kind of stuff you'd listen to."

She turned her head to look at him, expecting a joking expression to look back at her, but his face was interested instead. _Understanding asshole_. She should push him off the roof.

Instead, she shifted to let herself slide off the ledge and back onto the flat roof, putting her arms under her head as she looked up at the setting sun. "Little bit of everything. I like grunge and 90s rock the best, Hole, Garbage, that shit. I had a lot of punk. Kathleen Hanna is like, my god. Sex Pistols, Black Flag, real angry stuff. Less angry bands like the Runaways and Siouxsie and the Cure. I had modern crap too, some commercialist pop groups for the good days, indie, some rap. I like female rappers that rap about the real shit. God, there was a lot more. I can't even remember all of it."

She let out an exhale, pushing herself up on her elbows to look at Delsin, who was grinning at her. She made an angry sound and sat up, leaning on her knees. "Why are you lookin' at me like that? You look stupid." She smirked, not bothering to put venom into the insult as he laughed.

"Nothing! I'm not making fun of you, I swear. I didn't... You surprised me. You have really good taste in music. I can honestly say I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't any of what you just said." He shook his head, pushing himself back to sit next to her on the roof. "How do you listen to music now without an iPod or anything?"

She grumbled, picking at her chipped pink nail polish. "I got a wireless radio. But radio sucks around here, unless you can pick up the underground shit. I gotta get a better antannae so I can get college radio stations. They usually don't suck too bad."

Delsin groaned, putting his hand on his chest as if he was in pain. "A radio? God, what is this, 1996? Are Nirvana playing tonight down at the Latte Owl?"

She glared at him and zapped him with a neon bolt to the leg, which caused him to jump a few feet and yelp, almost falling off the roof. "Dickhead," He sighed morosely while rubbing the scorch mark now burned into his jeans.

She stood up, smirking at him and winking once. "You deserved it. But honestly, D, where am I gonna get an iPod? Just go grab one out of the Apple store with all my money so I can hook it up to my super-awesome laptop?" She rolled her eyes. "I live in a billboard."

Delsin squinted at her as if he were thinking before slinging an arm around her shoulders, nodding very intensely as if he'd just answered a question in his own head. "It's settled, then. We'll go see Eugene. I bet he's got a spare one, or he knows where you can get one. Hell, the kid can probably _build_ you one. God knows he's smart enough. And he's got a ton of computers. You can download music from there."

Fetch looked at him like he'd just grown horns, one eyebrow arching up in an expert motion she'd perfected while doubting her brother's harebrained ideas and plans. Delsin continued talking, unintimidated by the arch.

"It's a good idea. I'll text him now and tell him we're coming so he can put on pants and pause his clan raid on Lord Cybergoth of the Dark Realms or whatever he's doing." He pulled out his phone, texting with one hand, his other still around Fetch's shoulders.

It wasn't a bad idea, she had to admit. And she was jonesing bad for her music. Back in the junkie days, music had kept her sane when she couldn't get a fix or scrounge up enough money for a pop. In Curdun Cay, it kept her sane through the seven circles of hell she was put through every day. She exhaled, plucking Delsin's arm delicately from her shoulders and looping her fingers around the chain on his wrist.

"Fine. It's a good idea. Even if you are too damn nice sometimes. We'll go see Teen Angel." She paused, rubbing his wrist with her thumb before standing on her tiptoes to peck Delsin's cheek hard, pairing it with a punch to the arm. "Thanks, D."

She bolted to the edge of the roof, looking over the edge and across the swath of Pioneer Square and the wrecked bridge to where Eugene lived. "Race you there, though. Loser buys beer."

She bolted off before Delsin had a chance to respond, leaving a bright pink neon trail as she ran up the face of the adjacent building. Delsin cursed colourfully and tripped over his own feet in his haste to drain the neon from the apartment sign and charge off after her, their neon crisscrossing purple as they raced across the city together.


End file.
